Know Your Enemy
by Kaida the Dragon Goddess
Summary: Yahiko disappeared ten years ago, and left no clue as to where he'd gone. Now he's back, and he's got one goal...to see Kenshin dead. (Mild shounen-ai)
1. Chapter One

I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. If I did, why on earth would I waste my time writing this? I'd be rubbing it in all the fan's faces! Heh...um...anyway.  
  
This is my first Kenshin fic. I have only seen 22 eps of RK, so please realize that this is why I only have Kenshin, Kaoru, Sanosuke, Megumi, Tsubame, and Yahiko in this fic.  
  
Okay, I'll shut up and let you read now.  
  
Chapter One: Stranger  
  
A wind kicked up and whipped his hair back from his face. His eyes narrowed in the harsh sunlight, and he practically had to squint to keep the dust from blocking his vision. His sandals made little noise on the packed earth; even after all this time he still walked a quietly as a stalking cat. The sword stuck through his obi thunked against his leg as he strode down the crowded street.  
  
How long had it been since he had abandoned the life of a wanderer? Ten years? Eleven? And still the townspeople gaped at the fire-haired man in their midst, openly defying the law by carrying his sword. True, it was a sakabatou, a reverse-blade, but few still living and willing to fight him knew that.  
  
Himura Kenshin smiled at a man about his own age leading a young boy, about nine or so, gently by the shoulder. The boy glared stubbornly and shuffled his feet as slowly as possible, kicking up a cloud of dust.  
  
The boy slowed to almost a crawl and the man grabbed him by the muscle in the side of the neck, squeezing it painfully until tears sprang to the boy's eyes. The man growled something at him. Kenshin's smile dropped.  
  
"D'you understand me?"  
  
The boy nodded, on his knees, gritting his teeth and fighting tears. "H ... hai ... " (Y ... yes ... ")  
  
Kenshin put a hand on the man's arm. "Excuse me, but this one thinks you should release this boy, that you should."  
  
The man snarled. "This is none of your business. Go stickin' your nose into other folk's matters, and you're likely to get it cut off."  
  
Before the man even realized that Kenshin's sword was out of its sheath, he was down, knocked unconscious.  
  
The boy gaped at Kenshin, tears forgotten. Kenshin knelt down and offered a hand to the boy. "Daijoubou desu ka?" (Are you alright?)  
  
The boy's startled look was replaced by a flash of anger. "Daijoubou! (I'm fine!) What do you mean, butting into other people's business? I didn't need your help! I'm not a kid, you know!"  
  
It was Kenshin's turn to gape at the boy. He sounded so familiar...someone had said that to him before, years ago.  
  
A face flashed in his mind, a tanned, black-haired, brown-eyed boy's face, laughing. Ah ... that's who this boy reminded him of. Yahiko. Even thinking about him was painful ...  
  
"Hey, what's the matter with you?" the boy asked rudely.  
  
"What's your name, boy?"  
  
"Don't call me that! My name's Daisuke, and you'd better remember it, because I'll make you pay for insulting me like that! I'll-"  
  
Kenshin stood up. "You have this one's deepest apologies, Daisuke. Don't-" he choked on his words. "Don't ever lose that pride you have."  
  
The boy glared and ran off.  
  
Kenshin watched him go. A wetness on his scarred cheek surprised him; he put his hand to his face. Tears?  
  
"That seems to be your famous line, Himura."  
  
Kenshin whirled. A man in a dark gray cloak, hood pulled up to cover his face, leaned against the wall.  
  
"Who are you? How do you know this one's name?"  
  
"Ah, now, your memory isn't what it used to be. Growing old so quickly, Kenshin?"  
  
With that, the man whirled and stalked away. Kenshin stared after him. Who—could it have been—  
  
"Kenshin!"  
  
"Kaoru-dono, Sanosuke," he greeted his friends absentmindedly.  
  
Kaoru tilted her head in that odd birdlike manner she had. "Kenshin, what's the matter? Are you alright?"  
  
In spite of the lone tear that still streaked his face, Kenshin grinned. "Oh, hai, this one is fine, Kaoru-dono, that he is."  
  
Sanosuke raised an eyebrow. Actually, one eyebrow disappeared in the spiky mass he liked to call his hair. "Kenshin, you were crying."  
  
"Crying? No, Sano, this one simply had something in his eye."  
  
But Sano wasn't listening. He was watching the back of the retreating stranger. "Do you know him?"  
  
"That this one does not, but he seemed to recognize this one. Odd, that."  
  
Kaoru too was watching the cloaked man. "Sure is. Ah, well, let's get something to eat." She noticed the unconscious man for the first time. "Kenshin! Can't we go anywhere without you causing trouble?" She grabbed Kenshin by the ear and he yelped.  
  
"Ow! Kaoru-dono, that hurts! Kaoru-dono!"  
  
She dragged him into Akabeko. Sanosuke stood alone, watching the horizon where the man had disappeared.  
  
/ Are you back so soon? Frightened out there, all alone? Or did you just come to cause more trouble? You should have stayed gone, boy, you should've stayed gone./  
  
"Sano!"  
  
"Coming," he called. "I'm coming."  
  
Kenshin closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of the bitter tea he drank. He reached for a bit of fish in the center of the pan with his chopsticks, and noticed that Sano wasn't eating.  
  
"Sano," Kenshin said, touching the tall man's arm lightly. "What's the matter? Are you ill?"  
  
"No," Sano muttered, jumping at the touch. "I feel fine, just...that man seemed oddly familiar."  
  
"Yes, this one felt that too. You don't think it's—"  
  
Sano shrugged and tilted his head at Kaoru, to indicate that they shouldn't discuss this around her. She had gone into hysterics when Yahiko had left ten years ago. Any mention of the boy brought tears to her eyes and caused her to sit in silence for hours on end.  
  
Kaoru sighed. "I'm not deaf, you know. I can hear you—"she choked, "—and I think you might be right ... "  
  
Her huge eyes were clouded with tears; Kenshin took her by the shoulders and hugged her to his chest. "It's alright, Kaoru-dono. We'll find him if it takes us years."  
  
Kaoru collapsed against him. "I should never have yelled at him like that—this is all my fault."  
  
"No, Kaoru-dono. He chose to leave. You did nothing."  
  
"That's the point! I should have stopped him! I should have—"  
  
Kenshin put a finger to her lips, his voice oddly harsh. "Stop that, Kaoru- dono. You'll worry yourself into an early grave, that you will. I'm sure Yahiko doesn't blame you." /How could he blame you when it's my fault?/  
  
"Kaoru," Sano said. She looked up at him. "You can't blame yourself for this. It was Yahiko's decision, not yours. It's over and done with, so don't keep worrying."  
  
Kaoru sniffled. "I guess you're right, but...I miss him."  
  
"So do we all, Kaoru-dono."  
  
Ten years earlier ...  
  
"Yahiko! You lazy little brat, where are you?" Kaoru brandished a broom at Kenshin. "Where is he? He's supposed to be sweeping the dojo."  
  
Kenshin looked up from the pot he was stirring and smiled. "He'll show up, that he will, don't worry. He always does his chores in due time."  
  
Kaoru huffed and sat down by Kenshin. "Do you ever worry about anything?"  
  
Kenshin turned his attention back to the pot. "This one tries not to. It just makes things worse."  
  
"I suppose you're right."  
  
Sanosuke opened the dojo door and stepped outside. "Hey, have you seen Yahiko? He's supposed to be practicing hand-to-hand combat with me, and I can't find him anywhere. Little runt snuck out on me again."  
  
"Kaoru-dono is looking for him as well. Do you think he's alright?"  
  
"I'm sure he's fine. Probably sitting near a river somewhere or something."  
  
But Kenshin's mind wasn't eased by Sano's confident words. Yahiko had been coming home later and later, with new cuts and bruises often as not. Sure, the boy had tried to hide them, but Kenshin was in charge of heating the bathwater, and had seen Yahiko's battered back through the bathhouse window.  
  
Kaoru jumped up and stabbed a victorious finger at the hunched shape at the gate. "There you are, Yahiko! Sneaking out on us again, are you?"  
  
Yahiko stepped back into shadows, eyes downcast. "I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ... "  
  
Kenshin half-stood to stop Kaoru; something about the boy's voice wasn't quite right. But Kaoru was just getting started on her tirade.  
  
"You know, you live and eat here for free, and you do NO work! I train you and take care of you, and you're still the same ungrateful little lout who crawled in here a year ago! You haven't changed a bit! Maybe we should have just left you with that yakuza syndicate! You'd think them beating you would have left some sort of impression on you! You obey when I tell you to! I say jump, you say 'how high?'!"  
  
Yahiko gritted his teeth. His eyes flashed in the shadows, creating an eerie effect. "I'm sorry, Kaoru-sensei," he said, his words coming out as more of a sob.  
  
He turned and dashed into the dojo. Kaoru stared after him. "What...what's wrong? He didn't even argue...and he called me sensei?"  
  
"I think you should stay here Kaoru-dono, that you should," Kenshin said. "I'll see to Yahiko."  
  
Kaoru glanced at Sano in shock. "Something's wrong," she said. "He just called himself 'I.'"  
  
Kenshin padded down the wooden hall with silent feet. "Yahiko?" he asked gently, sliding the door open. Yahiko was curled up in a corner of the room, arms wrapped around his knees, head buried in his arms. Upon hearing Kenshin's voice, he looked up, tear-streaked face fierce.  
  
"You come to yell at me too? Tell you what, Kenshin, hit me, kick me, do whatever you want, just don't yell. I'm getting a headache."  
  
Kenshin knelt by Yahiko, and Yahiko shied away from him. "Why would I hit you?" If Yahiko had noticed the samurai referring to himself in the first person, he didn't comment.  
  
Yahiko gave a mirthless smile. "No one else needed a reason."  
  
Kenshin's eyes were soft. "Who has been hurting you, Yahiko?"  
  
"Hurting me ... ?" Yahiko mumbled, as if the thought had never occurred to him. "No one."  
  
"Yahiko ... You can't lie to me, I know you've been hurt."  
  
Yahiko sat in stubborn silence.  
  
"I'm going to go get the doctor," Kenshin said after a moment. "Your wounds must be tended to."  
  
"No," Yahiko said pleadingly, grabbing Kenshin's sleeve. "No one else has to know, do they? I can take care of it myself."  
  
"Can you?" Yahiko nodded. "Well, at least let me clean them."  
  
He went to fetch a washcloth and water. Yahiko waited, still curled up in the corner until Kenshin returned. The red-haired man knelt by the boy and brushed his hair away from his face, pulling his hand back when it came away red with blood. He parted Yahiko's hair to reveal a large, still- bleeding gash at the hairline. Kenshin bathed it, not missing the boy's sharp intake of breath.  
  
"Itai ... " Yahiko gasped, breathing heavily, on the verge of tears. "Itai..." (It hurts ... it hurts ... )  
  
"Hmm," Kenshin half-laughed sadly. "It's supposed to. Pain is your body's way of telling you that you've done something foolish."  
  
Kenshin wrung out the white washcloth into the bucket. "Yahiko, please take your shirt off for me, alright?"  
  
Yahiko stiffened, baring his teeth unconsciously.  
  
"Yahiko? I won't hurt you, I'm only trying to help. Please, it will be easier if you cooperate, that it will."  
  
Yahiko lowered his eyes and untied his kimono, letting it gather around his waist. He removed the white cotton shirt he wore underneath and set it aside, folding it neatly--/where did he learn that?/ Kenshin wondered.  
  
Kenshin bit his lip. Poor boy ... what had happened to him? Yahiko glanced up at him with pained eyes and smiled wryly. "Yahiko ... who ... who did this to you?"  
  
Yahiko averted his gaze to his feet once again. "No one."  
  
Kenshin tentatively touched a deep purple bruise. "No one has a pretty good arm, then."  
  
The boy's back was a mass of bruises and scabs. Welts, too ... had he been whipped? His chest was a mirror of his back, and his arms were bruised and battered as well.  
  
Kenshin scrubbed roughly at a dirt-packed cut. Yahiko whimpered. "Ken ... shin ... that ... hurts ... "  
  
Kenshin continued his work. By the time he had finished bathing his wounds, Yahiko was pale, shaking, and in pain. Several slashes had reopened and were seeping crimson waterfalls onto the floor.  
  
Kenshin bound the boy from torso to wrist in clean bandages. "Now you be careful to not let no one get you again, alright?"  
  
Yahiko snarled. "You think this is funny, Kenshin? You—"  
  
Kenshin took Yahiko's arm. "I'm here if you ever need to talk, alright? You don't forget that. I would never strike you."  
  
"Hai," Yahiko said, startled out of his tirade. "Hai, Kenshin. Domo arigatou." (Yes. Yes, Kenshin. Thank you very much.) One week later ... Kenshin rubbed his temples, gritting his teeth. His head was pounding, and his stomach was rumbling. He collapsed to his knees, dropping the soapy pot he was washing, dry-heaving as his stomach tried to eject what it didn't have.  
  
What was the matter with him? He'd been weak as a newborn kitten for three days now ...  
  
He opened his kimono and probed gently at the inflamed mass of infection his side had become. Common street rats. Battosai the Manslayer had been wounded by street rats. It was embarrassing.  
  
Maybe that was why he'd refused to let Megumi tend to it.  
  
He'd only wanted to help Yahiko ...  
  
Yahiko had gotten mixed up with a small street gang somehow. He had a debt to them, or something, Kenshin didn't really know the details. But the gang had caught Yahiko off-guard and undefended as the boy was walking back to the dojo with that night's dinner.  
  
They'd had short swords; glorified knives, really, pitted and rusted with age. Kenshin had been waiting for Yahiko, thankfully, and had decided to walk up the path a ways to meet him. Kenshin had taken them down easily, and although none were mortally wounded, they certainly weren't going to be pestering Yahiko for some time.  
  
Perhaps it had been shock, fear, spite even, but Yahiko hadn't warned Kenshin about the boy behind him. By the time Kenshin had whirled and struck the boy a painful blow to the midsection, he'd managed to rake his rusty blade across Kenshin's ribs.  
  
Yahiko was standing behind him as he got to his feet shakily. "You should eat something," the boy said. "And get Megumi to fix that scratch."  
  
Kenshin's eyes narrowed. Scratch? Damn thing was making him ill. "I will eat when I feel like it, Yahiko," he near-growled, the hot-tempered Manslayer in him again rearing its ugly head. "And I'll thank you to not run to Megumi and tell her I'm injured."  
  
Yes, Yahiko definitely noticed the "I" this time. One would think it would alert him that all was not well with Kenshin, but the young are often foolish, and he chose to brush it off and try to keep light-hearted.  
  
"Well, you're too damn stubborn to tell her yourself—ow!" Yahiko fell back into the sliding screen door, clutching the side of his head where Kenshin had swung the pan with all his might and it had connected with a sickening thud. "You hit me," Yahiko said, sounding surprised as he drew his hand away and examined the blood covering his palm. He stood, unsteady and dizzy from the harsh blow.  
  
"Yahiko-kun, I'm ... I'm sorry!" Kenshin rushed to the boy, violet eyes terse with worry. "I lost my temper ... I haven't been feeling well, and you just set me off, that's all. Are you alright?"  
  
Yahiko snarled and pulled back, the look of a cornered animal flashing in his eyes. "You bastard. You said I could trust you. Said you were there if I needed help. Well screw you, Kenshin, I don't need your help!"  
  
He turned and ran. Kenshin hadn't seen him since.  
  
He walked as if in a daze, lost in memories as they made their way back to the Kamiya dojo.  
  
The cloaked man was waiting at the gate. "Himura Kenshin," he laughed. "It's been so long."  
  
Kenshin shifted his sandaled feet into a fighting position. "Please, sir, leave us. This one doesn't want to hurt you, that he doesn't."  
  
The man straightened and threw back his hood. "Ah, Kenshin, you and your foolish 'this one.'" He laughed. "Don't you remember?"  
  
Kenshin stared.  
  
"Y—Yahiko-kun?" 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: The Ties that Bind  
  
He was taller, thinner, more tempered, but there was no doubt. His eyes were the same deep brown, if they weren't as friendly, and his hair was the same spiky mess, if a bit longer. His eyes, once wide and eager, were narrowed and fierce, his mouth seemed to automatically curve into a sardonic smile.  
  
"Yeah," he agreed. "It's me."  
  
Kaoru gave a strangled squeak and rushed over to hug him. He glared dispassionately down at her (he'd grown considerably) and shook her off. "Get off of me, ugly," he said, and the words were so reminiscent of the boy he had been that Kenshin had to choke back tears.  
  
Sanosuke didn't look surprised, however. His eyes were narrowed at Yahiko, as if he had expected to see him here.  
  
To his credit, Kenshin didn't appear remotely alarmed on the outside. But every samurai instinct within him was screaming as loud as possible. Perhaps it was his easy stance, or the way he fingered the sword he wore at his waist as casually as if it had been a money-pouch. Something about Yahiko radiated a challenge.  
  
He wore a red yukata with a pattern of flaming dragons, and black hakama. His sword was thrust through a thin black obi, and he wore straw sandals on his feet.  
  
"I'm serious, Kaoru, get off." He shoved her back, and Kenshin caught her.  
  
"Now Yahiko," he said in a calm voice, "This one thinks you're being a bit rude, don't you?"  
  
"Rude?" Yahiko stepped forward, looking down at the diminutive samurai, grinning the same mirthless grin. He laughed suddenly, and the sound sent chills down Kenshin's spine. "I hardly think that can be constituted as rude, wouldn't you say, Kenshin?"  
  
Kenshin released Kaoru. "Yahiko, this is between you and this one, and he'll ask that you leave Sano and Kaoru-dono out of this."  
  
Sano stepped forward, fists clenched, braced to fight. "What's going on, Kenshin?"  
  
"This doesn't involve you, Sano," Kenshin said, eyes trained on Yahiko.  
  
"That's bullshit! You're not shoving me aside just 'cause I don't fight the way you do—!"  
  
"Sano," Kenshin said icily, turning toward his friend. "I said to stay out of this, and I meant it. It doesn't involve you."  
  
Yahiko drew his sword and held it lightly with one hand barely wrapped around the hilt. "Let him fight, Himura. You've never been able to stop him before. My quarrel is not with you, Sanosuke. I'm here for Kenshin. If you get in my way, I'll kill you."  
  
Sano snorted. "I hope you've improved, then, because last time I saw you, your swordwork sucked."  
  
Yahiko's eyes were cold, his smile merciless. "I think you'll be surprised."  
  
Before Sano could snap back a reply, Yahiko had struck him in the stomach, hard. Sano grunted slightly, but not from pain. No, it was surprise, because Yahiko had attacked not with the sword at his waist, but the heel of his foot!  
  
"Interesting," Kenshin commented.  
  
"Yeah," Sano said absently, admiring the Yahiko-footprint bruising on his flesh. "He's combined martial arts and swordwork."  
  
"Yes I have," Yahiko replied, leaping into the air to strike downward at a seemingly unsuspecting Kenshin. "And I hardly think this is the time for idle talk!"  
  
When the boy was mere inches from him, Kenshin met his strike with a metallic clang as the sakabatou clashed with Yahiko's katana. Yahiko leapt back, regaining his balance. "Consider what you're doing, Yahiko-kun," Kenshin said, meeting the boy's eyes for the first time. "We are your friends. This one has no desire to hurt you."  
  
"Well that's a damn shame," Yahiko said. "Because I have a desire to hurt you."  
  
Kenshin barely got his sword up in time to block Yahiko's next attack. As it was, the thin blade of the boy's katana snicked through the shoulder of his yukata and left his upper arm bare. "The next one slices your throat, Kenshin."  
  
"I doubt that," Kenshin said, parrying yet another strike.  
  
"Attack me, dammit!" Yahiko cried. "I'm not your student anymore, Battosai!"  
  
Sano leapt and grabbed the boy from behind, holding him by wrapping powerful arms around his chest. Yahiko roared in fury and struck at Sanosuke, cutting a clean line ...  
  
... though Sano's eye.  
  
"Kami-sama!" (God!) Sano swore, clutching his eye. Blood dripped onto his bare chest and onto his pants, staining them red. Sano crouched over, trying to staunch the flow, cursing under his breath.  
  
"That's enough!" Yahiko and Kaoru whirled. Kenshin's sword was out in his distinctive attack position, his eyes firce and angry. "You've blinded Sanosuke, Yahiko! This ends now! I can't stand by and watch you hurt your friends!"  
  
"Friends?! I hate all of you!" Yahiko yelled. "I hate you! All you ever did was belittle me and lead me to believe that you respected me! He deserves everything he got!" Yahiko waved wildly at Sano, who, although standing, was still wincing in pain and trying to see out of his wounded eye. "And you, Kenshin—you deserve worse!"  
  
"Yahiko!" Kaoru cried. "What are you doing?" She flung herself in front of Kenshin, tears glittering in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Yahiko. I'm sorry I yelled at you, I'm sorry I didn't give you the respect you deserved, and I'm sorry I drove you from my dojo. Truly, I didn't mean to. But this isn't the right way! Don't you remember what I taught you? The sword that saves?"  
  
"Bullshit!" Yahiko roared. "Everything you ever taught me was a lie, Kaoru! Did you ever really believe that yourself?" He whirled to face Sano. "Go ahead, take your revenge! Come on, Sanosuke, hit me! Stop patronizing me for once!"  
  
Sano shook his head, barely able to force the words out. "I ... don't know ... what happened while you were gone ... but it can't be worth this." He still clutched his eye, face contorted in an agony he'd never known, only accented by the crippling fear that he would be left half-blind.  
  
"You wanna know what happened when I was gone?" Yahiko hissed, voice burning with a deadly sort of fury that the other Kenshingumi found infinately more frightening than his yells. "They took everything from me." He shivered and suddenly looked like the boy who had left them ten years ago. "Everything. My money, my sword, my clothes, my life, my—"He broke off.  
  
"Who did?" Kaoru asked, engrossed in spite of herself.  
  
"A group of underground rebels. Former samurai and their sons," Yahiko said with a hint of his old stubborn pride in his bloodline. "People who want the Meiji Era gone and the samurai restored. They taught me how to fight. Better than you ever did, Kaoru. They're my family now. I'm no longer Kenshingumi."  
  
"The street rats. The ones who wounded me," Kenshin said suddenly. "They were part of this rebellion, weren't they?"  
  
"Yes," Yahiko said. "Perhaps age hasn't dulled your wits that much, Kenshin."  
  
"Why did you stay with them?"  
  
Yahiko glared at Kenshin. "They're my family. My friends. They taught me what you wouldn't."  
  
"Friends don't hurt you, Yahiko," Kenshin said gently. "I remember how battered you were. What had you done wrong?"  
  
Yahiko's eyes narrowed. "I hadn't killed you yet," he spat. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Assassin  
  
"Killed--!" Kaoru sputtered.  
  
"Yes. You were supposed to assasinate this one, weren't you?" Kenshin asked. "They punished you for it. They nearly killed you."  
  
"I deserved it," Yahiko growled. "And I'm here to finish what I started."  
  
"Yahiko," Kaoru begged. "Please, stop it. Real friends wouldn't do that to you!"  
  
He turned an eerily impassive gaze on her. "They've done worse. Perhaps you're suggesting that you are real friends?"  
  
"Of course," Kaoru said. "You're like a little brother to us."  
  
"Has Kenshin not told you, then?"  
  
Kenshin's heart skipped a beat.  
  
"He was the reason I left, after all."  
  
"Kenshin was?" Sano said, looking confused through the pain. He glanced at Kenshin. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Friends don't hurt you, is that right, Kenshin? That's just further proof that you're not my friend." He pushed his hair back from his forehead, revealing a thin scar from right temple to eyebrow, white against his olive skin.  
  
"Kenshin ... you did that?"  
  
Kenshin closed his eyes. "Yes. I did."  
  
"He hit me. Just for asking him if he was alright, he hit me."  
  
"Kenshin, how could you? You let me go all this time thinking Yahiko left because of me?"  
  
"I am sorry, Kaoru-dono," Kenshin said wearily. "I am so very sorry. I was—embarassed."  
  
"Embarassed?" she said shakily. "Embarassed? Your pride is that much more valuable to you?"  
  
Kenshin inwardly flinched, reading the unspoken message: "Your pride is more important than me?"  
  
"No ... Kaoru-dono ... that wasn't what I meant ... I just didn't think ..."  
  
"Damn straight," Yahiko hissed, holding his sword straight out in front of him, in what Kenshin recognized as the "shinken" form. "You didn't think. And that's what got us into this mess."  
  
With an animalistic type of roar, Yahiko hurled himself at Kenshin, striking straight at Kenshin's heart. The hitokiri barely moved, and Yahiko's blade slashed a wound across the base of his neck, narrowly missing his jugular.  
  
"What's the matter, Battosai?" Yahiko spat, whirling to face his opponent. "You want me to kill you?"  
  
Kenshin stared coolly into the man's fevered eyes. "Would that make you happy?"  
  
Yahiko froze. The sword slid from his nerveless fingers, clattering to the ground in a cloud of dust. "H—happy?"  
  
"Did you ever truly think that I meant you harm?" Kenshin asked, averting his gaze. "Look past your anger. Do you think I intended to hurt you?"  
  
Yahiko snatched up his sword. "I'm not playing games, Kenshin! I'm sick of talking! Fight me, or I'll cut you down where you stand! I swear it Kenshin! I'll kill you!"  
  
Kenshin turned away from Yahiko, sheathing the sakabatou. "This was meant to be yours, you know," he said, indicating the sword.  
  
"I have no use for a blade that cannot kill," Yahiko snapped.  
  
"Of course not."  
  
And he walked away, leaving Yahiko completely still and quite bewildered. 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Contemplation  
  
"Never meant to hurt you? Come on, Yahiko, even you aren't that slow- witted."  
  
"I don't know, Shoki-sama," Yahiko said to his commander. "He seemed ... it was convincing, that's all."  
  
Yahiko's commander was nine years older than him, and a good seven inches taller. He was slightly paler than Yahiko, with long black hair that fell into his glittering green eyes. He was broad-shouldered and handsome, but there was no trace of kindness in those emerald eyes, only a fierce sense of determination.  
  
Shoki snorted, toying with the knot of Yahiko's obi. "Don't let yourself get drawn in again," he said. "Bear in mind that the Battosai is our enemy and your target."  
  
"Is there some reason I was assigned to him? I mean, it made sense when I was living with him, but now—"  
  
"It's simple."  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
"You're the best we have." Shoki shrugged. "Besides me, of course."  
  
Yahiko half-smiled. "Of course." In fact, he knew very well that his skills far outstripped Shoki's, but let the man delude himself, at least until Yahiko didn't need him and his political connections anymore. Connections that turned a blind eye to the asassination of Meji supporters in the government.  
  
Shoki glared out the half-open sliding door behind Yahiko. "Damn. It's raining again. The others should be getting back soon."  
  
Yahiko glanced around the empty dojo. "Where are they?"  
  
"Training in the outskirts of town."  
  
Yahiko nodded. He remembered the stages of his instruction where he and his peers had been taken to an abandoned part of Kyoto (the rebels moved around every so often to avoid capture, and they'd only recently returned to Edo) to accustom themselves to fighting in the narrow streets of a city.  
  
Shoki brushed his fingertips lightly against Yahiko's cheekbone. "But until then—"  
  
Yahiko turned away. "I'm not really in the mood," he said.  
  
Shoki grabbed hold of Yahiko's hair, jerking the boy's head back. "Your mood wasn't ever part of the agreement."  
  
"I don't remember any agreement."  
  
"You owe me, Yahiko. I took you in, I fed you, I trained you—"  
  
"And I've been paying off my debt since I was eleven years old."  
  
"Hn." Shoki grinned, nibbling at Yahiko's ear. "And you've got a good few years to go."  
  
"Y'know, you let everyone else pay with manual labour, but me—"  
  
"You get to work off your debt in my bed," Shoki murmered, shoving Yahiko onto the floor. "If that's a problem, you can leave."  
  
Yahiko snorted. He was wanted for murder in half the prefactures in Japan, where could he go and be safe? Perhaps not safe, he reflected after a moment, because he certainly wasn't here. But alive. He didn't want to die.  
  
"Sensei?"  
  
"Damn, they're back." Shoki rolled off of Yahiko, tugging his own yukata back into place. He pushed himself to his feet and went to prepare tea for the returning trainees.  
  
The trainees were soaking wet, dripping rainwater onto the tatami mats. The samurai in charge of teaching them, Hiroshige, bowed respectfully to his commander and motioned for his charges to do the same. "Sensei," Hiroshige said.  
  
"Hello, Hiroshige-san. How'd it go?"  
  
Hiroshige cast an amused glance at Yahiko lying on the ground, face flushed, yukata pushed up nearly to his hips. "Quite well, I'd say. They're not anywhere near the level they need to be, but they're coming along nicely."  
  
"Good." Shoki smiled and began pouring tea for the weary trainees. "All of you, get cleaned off, I won't have you tracking water all over my dojo."  
  
The trainees bowed and trotted off to their respective rooms. As they passed Yahiko, they each nodded respectfully at him and muttered, "Myojin- san."  
  
Yahiko sat up, pulling his yukata down and glaring at Shoki. "And you expect them to respect me after that?"  
  
Shoki grinned at him. "They're afraid of you, that'll have to do."  
  
"Afraid of me?" Yahiko murmered.  
  
"Of course. You're as good as a hitokiri, aren't you?"  
  
"I don't want to be a hitokiri," Yahiko snapped, getting to his feet. "I just want to be a samurai."  
  
Shoki handed him a cup of tea. "That's why you're here."  
  
Yahiko accepted the tea, and shook off Shoki's hand when it lingered a bit too long on his. "Of course." He strode across the room and paused, one hand on the door. "I'm here because I believe in this cause." His piercing brown eyes bored into Shoki's green ones. "Not because I believe in you."  
  
He slid the door shut behind him. 


End file.
